


Still Unstoppable

by Rhonda



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Animals, Blue Lions Byleth, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Gender Dysphoria, Horses, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Pegasus Bonding, Slow Burn, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Hubert von Vestra, Transmisogyny, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28402887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhonda/pseuds/Rhonda
Summary: Following a suicide attempt on her eighteenth birthday Helga von Vestra realized that in order to allow herself to fully live for Edelgard, she would need to live for herself to a certain extent.Now, two years later, she attends the Officer’s Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery with her Highness, more than ready and willing give all she has.Still, she is fraught with turmoil. Can she find solace in her peers, her princess, or her pegasus?
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & Hubert von Vestra, Edelgard von Hresvelg/Hubert von Vestra, Hubert von Vestra & Everyone
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	1. By The Way, It's My Birthday

* * *

“Hubert von Vestra, you do not have my permission to die. Not while you have still more to give.”

Helga von Vestra had the same nightmare that she often does. Lady Edelgard is bare in an opaque red basin. Unrouseable, sinking into the dark waters, deeper and further away from her until Helga’s fingers bump against the warm porcelain of the tub’s bottom and she’s gone forever.

She could sleep no longer and made the decision to get on with an early morning. There was always work to be done for the Vestra heir, regardless of whether she truly was heir to the household any longer. She still hadn’t been formally disowned and disavowed, despite her father’s best efforts. 

She placed a kettle of water onto a small ceramic plate. It radiated a steady magical heat and quickly brought the water to a boil while she coarsely ground coffee beans and poured them in a Leicester Press. 

While she waited for the grounds to seep she made her way to the dormitory’s showers. It was still an hour till sunrise and as such she had free reign of the place. It was for the best, there were more than a few parts of her body she’d rather keep to herself.

Washed, conditioned, and shaved, she poured herself her first cup of coffee and sat down at her vanity to prepare her makeup. 

With a glance at her calendar pinned to her mirror, the date and its meaning did not go unnoticed to her. She felt a special kind of weakness on remembering the second anniversary of her sucide attempt. It did not feel entirely unbidden, but more than that there was a sense of relief, if only for Lady Edelgard’s sake. If only she were here today, that Helga might prove her devotion a thousand times over. 

At the present time her Lady was days off, running drills in the woods with the other house leaders, the Knights of Seiros, and that peculiar professor who looked more suited to shining boots than to orchestrating the movements of armies. They should be running afoul of a group of bandits any day now. Formally, Arundel intended the plan to sabotage the future leaders of the Alliance and Kingdom, although Helga severely doubted that was his true intention, given how unlikely it was to succeed and the peculiar specific details. Was there some sort of tactical advantage to bringing the house leaders to Remire Village? It was too late to speculate now, she would just have to wait and see how things came out.

She should like to discuss the matter upon Edelgard’s return, although she will surely insist they take some time to celebrate together. Helga will say they have business to catch up on and that they ought to not spend time with frivolous endeavors, but as always her Lady will get her way. They might find themselves in the monastery’s greenhouse or having brunch in the gazebo. Still, it would prove an ample time to discuss strategy and if that is how Helga wishes to celebrate her own birthday there’s hardly anything that her Lady can do to argue about it.

Foundation to conceal her stubble, a subdued blush to avoid overemphasizing her high cheekbones, eyeshadow simply because it was pretty. As she finished her mascara, a new black splotch on the back of her wrist caught her attention and her eyes lingered upon her hands for more than a few moments. 

She remembered reading stories about great warriors who were haunted seeing the faces of all the men they killed when they looked upon their hands. Looking at her hands she didn’t see much of anyone but herself, and her less than perfect flesh. Even trying her best to remember the faces of those she had killed drew mostly blanks. The names and dates of each occasion her path called upon her to take a life was catalogued neatly in her mind, but the only dead man's face she could see was the shadow that sat just beneath her foundation in the mirror.

She examined her hands more closely. Dark purple stains began at the pads of her fingers and slinked their way across her palms to her wrists and might one day travel all the way up her arms and back to her heart where they would take her life. The price of dark magic that she would gladly pay a thousand times over. The pigmentation almost hid the other scars on her hands. Lines on the interior of each middle knuckle that had been once cut to bone by piano wire. Scars from a time when she didn’t care about the pain she inflicted upon her own body. Harder to obscure with discoloration were the now two year old deep gashes traveling up the center of her forearms from her wrists to the inside of her elbows. Cuts that had never been intended to heal, and yet by the grace of her Lady here she sat alive and well enough.

Her arms were a bit of a mess, she’d be the first to admit. She wasn’t ashamed of her body exactly, but there was a sort of shame in what each scar meant. Moments of weakness, all of them. All the same she donned her white gloves and tucked them into the sleeves of her blouse. She pulled on a pair of burgundy tights that, along with two pairs of underwear, managed to keep her unfortunate bulges in check. Skirt, boots, and collar all in their proper place.

Before leaving she pinned her long black hair to cover one eye with the amethyst carnation hair pin Edelgard had given her. The bauble was the first feminine thing she had ever received and was originally a homecoming gift from Ferdinand that Edelgard never wore for a myriad of reasons. Helga knew that he knew it was regifted, she hoped it bothered him to see it. That and its sentimental value meant she never left her room without it. When she looked in the mirror she couldn’t help but break out into a toothy smile. She was pretty and she knew it.

The dining hall served an early breakfast, but she spent longer on her makeup than she had intended and it had kept her from being alone in the hall. There was a spattering of various students, monastery staff, and knights along the benches. She noticed Petra and made her way over to her after gathering a bowl of nutty oatmeal, a meal that Helga admired for its caloric and nutrient efficiency compared to its economic viability.

As she got closer to the table she realized that the girl wasn’t dining alone. She appeared to be with one Ferdidand von Aeiger. Helga briefly considered turning about and sitting in the corner by some talkative knights but she was too late to avoid the encounter.

She repeated their names as way of greeting when she placed down her breakfast and sat with them. Ferdinand didn’t seem too pleased to see her but was far too chivalrous to outwardly expel her from the dining table.

“Helga, it is good to be seeing you!” Petra said, chipper despite the early morning. 

“Yes Helga, your grin is as uncanny as ever. It is good, for I was worried the dining hall might become too bright in the rising sun. It is much preferable for it to be darkened by your shadow.”

“Now, is that any way to talk to a lady on her birthday?” Helga replied, giving an even toothier smirk. Ferdinand seemed to weigh his words for a moment. 

“Happy birthday Helga,” he said with a resigned sigh, a consummate gentleman even with his enemies. “I shall have some flowers sent to your room later, you have my apologies for forgetting.”

“Ah, I am wishing you a happy birthday as well, Helga,” Petra said. “I was just telling to Ferdinand how good it is to be having you both and Edelgard with me at the Academy. You are all three people that I am seeing with frequency during my time in Enbarr. Garreg Mach is strange, as strange as Enbarr was to me when I am first coming to Fódlan. Only in some way, this time is easier since I am having some familiarity because of you.”

“I am very glad we could be a little bit of home for you,” Ferdidand said, Petra’s words washing away some of the darkness that had fallen on his face when Helga arrived. The sentiment pleased Helga as well. Petra was a hard worker and more clever than she was often given credit for. Clever enough to know to never pose a threat to Edelgard, Helga was certain. In which case her connection to the Empire and growth as a leader would prove a significant asset. Her other dining companion was another story.

“Did I hear right? Is it almost as though you view Enbarr as a home, then?” Helga teased. 

“With any luck I am hoping that, yes. Thinking this way will be helping our nations when I am Queen of Brigid,” Petra said, as Helga blew on a spoonful of hot oatmeal. She took a bite, it was still too hot but she didn’t mind the pain so much. “Ah, Speaking of reminding of Enbarr,” she continued, “before I forget, yesterday Dorothea was asking me about you. I am now thinking I should be telling you this.”

“Dorothea? The Mittelfrank songstress? Why would she be curious about me?” Helga said with more than a little confusion and concern. 

“She was asking if you were a boy or a girl,” Petra answered. Ferdidand made a slight sputtering sound that didn’t go unnoticed to Helga. She took a moment to consider her words, filling the time by filling her mouth with a particularly large spoonful of oatmeal. 

“And what did you tell her?” Helga asked after mulling it over, deciding that she found the situation rather amusing. In truth it was what she should have expected from the very beginning. The academic year had only just begun, and rumors of Helga’s novelty would certainly be in full swing by now.

“I told her that you are a girl. Only that I once knew you as Hubert but that now you are being Helga.“ Petra looked back and forth between the two of them trying to read their expressions, “Was this wrong of me to discuss? I am sorry, in Brigid this is the etiquette for these situations.”

“Please don’t trouble yourself with my feelings Petra,” Helga said with a roll of her eyes and a sigh. “And don’t bother holding your tongue with anyone else who comes asking after me. I assure you that as you still breathe you will never have to worry about guarding any of my secrets. The same goes for you Ferdidand.”

“Well, that is not the least bit disconcerting to hear,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm in a way she didn’t think was possible for the boy, “but I can promise I will not hold back when it comes to your feelings, Helga.”

“I thank you.”

The rest of their breakfast passed quickly. Ferdinand and Petra talked about a new set of steel axes that had recently been delivered to the training grounds while Helga mostly checked out of the conversation. Shortly after finishing her food she excused herself and made her way to the classroom on her own.

If Helga didn’t know any better she’d think she was drawing more stares than normal as she walked down the open air hallways of Garreg Mach. She had always drawn stares from those who knew or speculated as to what she was and from those that did not. Being such a dark and foreboding figure got people whispering whether or not they doubted her gender. That, and her freakish height.

“What a giant…” she heard one student whisper to her friend as she walked past them into the courtyard behind the classroom. Helga thought she might have been a Blue Lion, she was still not completely familiar with all of the other houses’ students. She was embarrassed about not having memorized all of their dossiers yet. She liked to pride herself on not missing a single detail in her plans, and yet her free time both alone and with Edelgard had been more occupied with trivialities of late. The girl’s taller friend whispered something to her but Helga was too far away to hear and she didn’t particularly care. 

As it stood she might end up getting to know them closer regardless. The Houses still had yet to be assigned home professors, and with the third professor being out, the Black Eagles were sharing a lecture with the Blue Lions. Today it was to be taught by Hanneman the crestologist, and he would be lecuring on his field, a subject that was presently mostly useless and, should fate allow, would one day be fully useless. Helga decided she’d take the opportunity to catch up on some reading she had taken from the library. She sat towards the back next to Linhardt who was already dozing off. Any other day she might chide him for his slothfulness, but she couldn’t stand hypocrites. 

Hanneman's eyes lingered on her from the front of the class in a way that gave her an unsettled feeling. He was once from Enbarr and bore a crest of his own. Perhaps he knew her father or some other nobles about the imperial court. She wouldn’t know given how few words had passed between her and her father, especially as of late.

Thankfully the man’s interest in her seemed to end with that and he didn’t seem to mind her tuning out his lecture in order to read about the history of peasant rebellions in the pre-kingdom Galatea region. Not particularly exciting stuff to most, especially given the monk who authored the account’s dry uninspired prose, but Helga found herself engrossed in it all the same. There were a lot of unique tactics that underdogs could take in order to level the playing field while in conflict with foes several times their size, and it would be prudent to understand them both to utilize and neutralize those advantages.

Halfway through the lecture it looked like Hanneman realized how little the assembled students were interested in his topic and called for a recess, hoping a quarter hour break outside might get their blood flowing. Helga glanced up from her book and surveyed the room as students all around them stood up and stretched, leaving to get some sunlight in the courtyard behind the classroom. Helga saw the two Blue Lion girls from earlier talking with one another only to be interrupted by the heir of House Gautier. Caspar tried to wake Linhardt who was out cold only to eventually give up and go outside with the majority of the class.

Two tables away Helga noticed Dorothea talking with the Galatean heir, Ingrid. They were looking at her, at first she assumed it was because of the book she was reading, but after realizing the interrogatory nature of their gazes she remembered her conversation with Petra at breakfast. The two stood up and she mentally prepared herself for a confrontation.

“Helga, is it true that you’re actually a man?” Dorothea asked, placing her hands on her hips in front of the table she was sitting at. If nothing else Helga was glad that she was giving her the benefit of the doubt enough to ask her directly. 

“In a strict manner of speaking,” Helga started, weighing her words carefully, it wouldn’t do well for Edelgard to allow intrahouse conflict to fester this early in the year. “If I had to choose between boy and girl as to what I was, I would probably say that I was the latter. Although it is true that I was born Hubert of House Vestra, and I lived the first eighteen years of my life as a boy.” The two girls seemed taken aback by that answer, clearly expecting something more defiant or bellicose out of her.

“So you admit it?” said Ingid, taking the initiative after a small silence.

“Sure, it matters not to me whether people know or don’t know public details about my past,” she said. It was a lie, it did matter to her, not to an overwhelming degree, but it still hurt when she was called a man, when she saw in people’s eyes that they knew about her moment of weakness, or when she heard her birth name whispered behind closed doors.

“I feel so violated. Do you have any idea what being a girl put me through? You really can’t just start calling yourself one like that,” Dorothea said, now openly hostile.

“But you have a penis,” Ingrid added, more a statement than a question and more to herself than to anyone. “That means you’re a male.”

“If that’s what you think then I suppose there’s no stopping you.”

“You use the women’s shower! We’ve been in there at the same time, I think! Were you watching me?” Dorothea didn’t wait for a response. “At the very least you have to stop using the women’s bathroom!” The conversation was growing increasingly loud by the second, and more and more of the stragglers about the classroom were turning their heads to gawk.

“No, I don’t think I will,” Helga said, plainly.

“No?” she echoed, incredulous. 

“You have my apologies if I make you uncomfortable, but I don’t intend to refrain from entering women’s facilities entirely, although I have no objections to waiting for you to vacate them before using them. To be brief, the fact of the matter is that I simply can not stop referring to myself as a woman.”

“And why is that?” asked Ingrid.

“Because it is the truth.” She kept the words: ‘Because doing otherwise would cause me to fail in my duty,’ off of her lips. Some words were too true to speak aloud.

“How- how dare you!” Dorothea said, nearly shouting. She seemed really upset, and looked like she was about to cry. Helga felt a little bad for her. Helga felt a bit like crying herself. Mostly, however, Helga felt nothing at all.

“You ought to be ashamed,” chimed in Ingrid, clearly goading Dorothea on. 

“I am sorry,” Helga said, looking up into Dorothea’s eyes from her seat. She genuinely meant it. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt anyone that whom hurting offered no tactical advantage. In that gaze she was hoping she might make some sort of connection. An appeal to their shared humanity in that moment. Dorothea looked right back at her, lips quivering while the rest of her body was stock still.

Dorothea slapped her hard on the cheek.

“I can’t, I just… eugh, I feel so violated!” she repeated. 

It stung, thankfully her thick foundation would cover the worst of the redness. The noise was loud enough that it caused Linhardt to shoot up suddenly from his slumber, complaining openly about being roused to no one in particular. Helga pushed back her chair and rose to her feet.

Dorothea was a tall woman, but she still stood approximately two decimeters below Helga, and Ingrid was even shorter. She stood there, considered how intimidating she felt, and slumped her shoulders.

“I am... sorry, truly,” Helga said as she felt her voice deflate.

“What are we fighting about?” asked Linhardt.

“She- he, has a penis and dresses like that to sneak into the girls changing rooms,” answered Ingrid pointing at Helga.

“What does it matter if anyone has a penis? She looks like a girl, isn’t that enough?” he replied, not missing a beat, before turning to Helga and looking at her with tired but curious eyes.

“So you’re a pervert too, then?” Ingrid spat back. Linhardt turned back to her with the same exhausted expression. Dorothea herself never took her attention off of Helga.

“Eugh! It’s just.. You can’t just… Does Edie... Do you have any idea how horrible... You nobles are just…” Dorothea sputtered, the interaction clearly wasn’t going the way she had expected at all, and she was completely at a loss for words. While she may have been an actor, improv was clearly not her forte. Helga was well aware just how offputting she could be for various reasons. She just closed her mouth and gave as genuine a remorseful look as she could but quickly realized there was no helping it. She realized far too late that this conversation wasn’t going nowhere so she gathered her things and walked briskly out the door and through the courtyard. 

She didn’t exactly know where she was going, but her heart must have subconsciously led her to the knight’s stables. 

She quietly chided herself for the frivolous distraction. There were surely better uses for her time then to be here. Her life was not hers to squander, after all.

Then again, what was the point of any of this if not to keep her own mind placaded enough to see through her promised service to Edelgard? It was also her birthday, and she’d earned a small treat.

What had just happened would happen again, she knew it. If Rhea forces her to abstain from dressing as she does, from taking her feminizing poultices... she didn’t know what she’d do. She walked around the horse stables towards the object of her diversion. It didn’t matter, she thought as she walked over the dry tamped dirt, as long as she kept her sights on the goal. She’d allow herself to be slapped like that a hundred times. As long as she kept her goal close to her heart, kept on fighting for a brighter future. One day another Helga might be born, another girl like her as she knew there were. And in that world, that girl wouldn’t need to worry about any of this. If she just kept her head down. If she just kept the sorrow at bay, long enough to fulfill her promise.

Unlike wyverns, which needed a special aerie removed from the rest of the monastery lest they menace the human residents and livestock of Garreg Mach, the pegasi were able to be kept close, in ordinary stables, with the rest of the horses. Although they were partitioned off from their earthbound residents for the sake of organization, along with a few other reasons.

A small sign on the door signalling that this area was restricted to women only greeted Helga. Pegasi tolerating and even forming bonds with men wasn’t unheard of, but it was still a precautionary measure to keep the herd from becoming riled up and ornery. If the wrong man wandered into the stable, he might lose a finger far quicker than if he took up juggling hand axes.

She had done this a few times before to varying levels of success. Most often they accepted her, they were skittish on occasion, and once one had tried to bite at her after she fed it a carrot from the dining hall. Even on her better days she still felt as though they had an inherent dislike of her. They were all ephemerally distrustful when she would come around the stables, and could flip on her at the drop of a hat.

All but one.

A slender black gelding named Honest Heart kept towards the rear of the stables always accepted her presence with no complaint. He seemed to like her just fine and in fact of late would get excited when she stopped by since he had come to associate her presence with the immediacy of sugary vegetables. What could she say? She always brought treats. She so desperately craved his validation. She suddenly felt bad at not having brought any treats for the big guy today. 

As she cracked open the door the space was clear and she didn’t hear the tell tale sounds indicating the presence of anyone with only two legs. It was still the first month of the school year, and yet she had snuck out to this place more than she had the training yard. She laughed to herself at the thought, and the sound alerted a few nearby pegasi who stirred in their pens. She tried her best not to leave too large of an impression on the space, she found that more than anything they hated bombasts. 

She heard Honest Heart winnie as she approached, he must already know her scent or the sound of her step. She didn’t want to hope but, she really felt like she was bonding with him. Two years ago she never thought she’d be able to be this close with a pegasus physically let alone actually be able to imprint on one. 

She greeted him with open hands and he didn’t shy away. She was still cautious and plodding as she moved her palm out to touch him. She pressed up against his forehead and he pressed gently back into her touch. 

Suddenly the numbness melted away and more than an ounce of anguish filled her. She didn’t cry, she was far too professional to cry at something like that, but she still felt bad. At the palace Edelgard had intimidated anyone who thought to treat her that way, and even those who still called her a man behind closed doors did so with apprehension in their voices. She didn’t mind being scary, or creepy, or even the specific kind of strange woman that she was, only that she not be denied her personhood.

Honest Heart seemed to sense the change in her mood and nuzzled further into her hand. He was a real sweetheart that one.

“You, know. Second to Edelgard, I believe you are my only true ally,” she said to him, giving a sly smile that was more for herself than for his benefit. He looked at her with the dark empty eyes of a beast, but still she thought she just might have seen some understanding in them.

She let her mouth hang open, baring her teeth openly the way she had found herself doing in the time since she had come into herself, and slowly breathed in and out. The scent of the stables always had an undercurrent of pegasus blessings but there were other scents there. Sweat and musk and an undeniable sweetness, a smell that made Helga think of woodland fairies, or of the more engaging tales in the scriptures of Seiros.

Honest Heart looked a little matted and dirty. He was not prime material for any of the pegasus riders that the Church employed, and as such had remained unbonded to any of the elite knights or guardswomen, leaving him more for the purpose of the Officer’s Academy than anything. And then, most of the girls at the academy dreamed of beautiful porcelain mares or amber stallions. As such, the inconsistent almost ruddy black of his coat appealed to no one heading out for sky watch. He was also a bit bulkier than some of the other pony-sized pegasi, she imagined it didn’t make him a particularly easy option to learn to fly upon. All this led to him being relatively neglected, even by the stable girls.

She really shouldn’t, but then again, it was her birthday.

She whispered to him that she’d return and left to find some grooming supplies. Near the entrance to the stables she found a small bucket full of miscellaneous brushes, combs, and scrapers. Most notable was an ornate curry comb that looked like it belonged to someone. It was made of a high quality whitewashed wood, and had intricately carved aquamarine pegasi in various scenes of frolic about its edges. She took the whole bucket with her back to him.

She stepped into his pen and ran her hands along his flank. There was a lot of dirt that got picked up into her white glove and darkened it. It must have been very long since someone took the time to care for him.

She had never actually done this before. She had watched the pegasus knights of Enbarr groom their mounts from afar since she was a little boy but never dared get this close before. She had long since researched and memorized the exact steps of the process, and yet since coming to Garreg Mach and getting the opportunity to do so first hand, she still had been too nervous until now. 

She started with the curry comb, and slowly lowered it to him, perhaps a bit too cautious, mindful of the way she had to slip underneath the large feathered wings. She was sure it would take a lot more to spook the creature, but she still felt like an outsider in this place. She traced large circles all across his coat. The tool did a spectacular job of digging up the dirt from deep beneath his fur. She decided she’d just quietly pocket the thing on her way out of the stables, a little birthday gift to herself.

After a long meditative period of combing, in which Helga found her head blissfully devoid of thoughts, she stepped back and appraised her work. To the untrained eye one might think he had become even more dirty from the process, but she knew that it had brought all the grime up to the surface of his coat and was now primed to be brushed away.

She did just that, brushing out and away massive clouds of dust and debris with a stiff boar hair brush. By the time she was done his coat glimmered in the dimming natural light. She only just realized how long she’d spent, when she noticed how horizontal the shafts of sunlight streaming in through the windows had become. She’d need to get back to her work soon, there was still so much to be done. 

She ran her fingers through his hair and pressed her hand against the tight muscular flesh of the warhorse.

“You look good,” she said to him, “I’m glad I could get this cleaned up for you, but unfortunately I have to go. Plans to plot, people to silence, you know.” It was a little joke for herself, she knew for a fact the majority of her business for the evening would involve much more boring calculations of budget and resource consolidation, plus whatever homework she’d be obligated to complete.

She was probably just projecting, but she sensed a sadness in him at seeing her go. By the grace of the Emperor, if only her past self could see her now. How tender she had become with this animal. She ought not to let herself become too sentimental, not when there was still a bloody path ahead of her. She hoped against hope that this new softness wouldn’t take away from her future ability to perform her function. But even still, she liked being soft, even if it was just here.

His shimmering coat looked soft too. So very soft. She wanted to feel it against her bare skin. She was alone with him. There was no one who would see her scars if her gloves were removed for but a moment.

She took off one and then the other, taking the time to look at them again. They were just a pair of hands. Just a body part, like any other. Just a part of the body that she had.

She ran her ungloved hands over his flank. It was indeed soft. She might have had work to do, but she was glad she took the time to groom him. To allow such softness to exist in her world was certainly worth the time. And certainly worth the pain.


	2. I Have A Thought Experiment For You

Edelgard absentmindedly twirled a purple carnation between her thumb and forefinger. A birthday gift to Helga from Ferdidand and perhaps some attempt at a slight, being a direct reference to Helga’s choice of ironic hair piece. She wasn’t quite so sure, even this as simple as it was, seemed above Ferdidand’s capacity for spite. Either way, Edelgard seemed to be enjoying them well enough, what did it matter if they were sent with some manner of clumsy ill intent. 

She was sitting on Helga’s desk while Helga looked over several ledgers whose audit were long overdue. She had initially come in to voice her displeasure at the Black Eagles not having been assigned the new professor: Byleth. She was a blank faced mercenary barely older than she was whose father had once been a knight of Seiros. Helga had initially taken her appointment as professor to be a typical act of the Church’s decadent nepotism, but Edelgard insisted there was something very special about her.

Helga would have to see for herself in the up and coming mock battle, but until then she didn’t want to rule out any possibility. The least of which being these Jeralt and Byleth figures had some kind of connection to Arundel’s plans as she had speculated.

Edelgard confirmed suspecting as much herself, saying if it were true that it boded poorly for the future education of their house. Helga had assured her that Manuela would serve as a competent instructor for the Black Eagles, and that even if she should prove wanting, that their education was merely a secondary objective at the Academy.

Edelgard looked at the flower intensely and then back out the window towards the setting sun. She had been lingering about Helga’s room a lot lately, she said it gave her time to think things through. Helga was glad to provide a space where she could delve into her own thoughts without being consumed by them. Helga certainly knew Edelgard’s presence provided her with the same service.

She had a furrowed brow, and was clearly in a small deal of distress over the matter. Edelgard would never admit weakness in front of anyone, and often enough Helga was included in anyone. But on occasion she would show Helga the face she kept hidden from everyone else. The face of the overwhelmed young girl she never wanted to be again.

“It just bothers me, okay,” she said suddenly with an uncharacteristic sigh. She threw the carnation across the room to gently settle upon Helga’s bed.

“I assure you, Casagranda is more than just a pretty face,” Helga repeated, not looking up from her numbers, “I’ve read her curriculum vitae, she will be a more than adequate instructor.” 

“Pardon me. I was referring to this situation with Dorothea,” she said, turning to look at her directly. Helga leaned back in her chair but didn’t meet her gaze. She had fully briefed Edelgard on what had transpired in her absence when she had returned during their unavoidable birthday coffee date at the gazebo. She had naturally been forced to include the scene with Dorothea and the Galatean heir despite a particular reticence when it came to bothering Edelgard with accounts of petty disputes, especially when it came to troubles caused by her own personal quirks.

“Lady Edelgard, I assure you it’s fine,” Helga said, staring straight forward before finally turning to look her Lady in the eye, “you need not trouble yourself with it.”

“If I don’t trouble myself with it, then you’ll do what exactly?”

“I don’t intend to do anything, your Highness. The matter is a triviality,” she said. There was a brief moment she considered her options, but being truthful in this matter was the correct decision.

“Honestly, you can’t expect me to just sit around and do nothing about it. What kind of an Emperor will I be if I can't even protect my most trusted ally from assault within my own ranks?” Edelgard complained. Helga crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back further in the chair till the front two legs lifted off the floor, and gave her a Princess sly toothy smile.

“What would you do then?”

“Confront her,” she said, “Inform her of how and why she is mistaken about you. Change her disposition.”

“Order her as the Imperial Princess to be my friend, if need be?”

“If it came to it,” Edelgard replied earnestly, not willing to play her little game. Helga closed her eyes and shook her head. 

“At their core, all exceptional humans carry at least one truly held belief that will guide them on their path,” Helga started, looking up at her Princess with a mix of reverence and patronizing affection. “You have one, I have one. There is no one that can change someone’s truly held belief once it is fully formed. Not even you, Lady Edelgard.”

“And so you think Dorothea’s dislike of you is driven by this truly held belief?”

“I don’t even think it’s a particularly bad one. She is skeptical of the nobility, that one. Her guiding principle may be one of spite, but it certainly isn’t unjust in its goals. I suggest keeping her close, in fact.”

“I won’t have anyone close to me who looks down upon others for how they were born... or how their bodies were changed since,” she said looking down at her hands, rubbing her thumb and forefinger together now without a flower stem to keep them apart.

“I never said I believed she would be like this forever, she may still come around on the subject.”

“Ah, so you don’t think that anyone can change their beliefs but themselves, then?”

“In a manner of speaking. You can not change someone’s truly held belief, but that doesn’t mean when left to their own devices certain exceptional people can adjust their own outlook on said belief, change how it applies to the world around them. My prescription is to let it go, she will either change how she feels about me or she won't. Either way we have no say on the matter, and either way I believe she has the potential become a significant asset.” She didn’t say the words: ‘Either way, my feelings are irrelevant,’ since she knew they would likely displease Edelgard to hear. She leaned forward again, letting the chair settle back to four legs and pressed her hands to the desk stretching out her fingers. “Then again, that is just my prescription, it’s my role to suggest when and where to press, and when and where not to, but you may do what you will. You need only give the order and you will never hear of her again.”

“And to think there might have been a world where I’d have missed out on council like this,” Edelgard said with a small smirk of her own, taking Helga’s gloved hand in hers and giving it a friendly squeeze before hopping off of the desk and making for the door. “Don’t slack on your school work, do remember we are here to learn as much as anything else.” she said. 

“Yes of course, your Highness,” Helga replied before she left for her own room right next door.

* * *

She wasn’t entirely truthful when she sang the praises of Manuela. The woman knew a lot and was highly skilled, but struggled to find ways to confirm that information and ability onto her students. She was accomplished in many fields, but as a teacher she left a lot to be desired. 

Helga fell into the role of class advocate, teaching assistant, and tutor almost immediately. In between speaking up when Bernadetta felt uncomfortable during long unsightly tangents about her love life, reading passages out of a textbook at the lectern while a hungover Manuela nursed a splitting migraine, and talking Caspar through his confusingly assigned homework, she had hardly had any time for her extra curricular duties to her Princess, let alone time to slip away to the stables to unwind.

Thankfully most of her duties this month were ledgers, documents, and other preparations that could be accomplished in her room while she would otherwise be sleeping. She made sure she got enough to still function at optimal mental efficiency but only that much, and she was beginning to become worried that the dark bags under her eyes could be seen through her foundation.

Worst still about Manuela was how overly eager she was to make use of Helga. She seemed to really like something about her. She was always trapping her at the end of class to try and talk to her about meaningless drivel. Why exactly she thought Helga of all people would be interested in discussing boys, the glitz and glamour of the stage, or the nightlife in Enbarr was beyond her. There were a few times when she’d started a discussion about makeup that Helga found at least somewhat engaging, but for the most part it was just another unnecessary distraction. And one that didn’t even help relieve her building stress.

She felt even more frustrated with the attention because she could tell that Dorathea was interested in reuniting with the Mittelfrank songstress she once knew and was prudent enough to avoid Helga since their confrontation. Leaving her an unwilling obstacle in Dorothea’s path. She at least hoped the woman would get tired of bothering her soon enough so that everyone might be happier.

It was after a particularly long and frustrating conversation about low cut dresses on the afternoon before their mock battle that she ran into Linhardt. It had taken all her effort to finally pry herself away from that conversation she had absolutely no interest in, hardly having any breasts to speak of and even barring that, being largely against displaying her scarred flesh to anyone. She was so frustrated that she failed to hide her displeasure at being stopped by the scholastic layabout. He had been apparently waiting outside the classroom just out of sight, specifically with the intention of confronting her like this.

“Hi, Helga,” he said.

“Afternoon,” she replied. It wasn’t a pleasantry so much as a neutral observation of the time. She didn’t slow down, hoping that he’d be too lazy to pursue at her present pace. It was no use, he had long legs too, even if they weren’t quite as long as her own.

“You shouldn’t let what Dorothea said get to you,” he said, willfully ignoring the hint. “People will gossip about all sorts of foolish things.” The sheer audacity of the ‘advice’ caused her to turn and stop. She stepped close to the boy, looking down upon him through their over a decimeter difference in height. He had an awfully round and soft looking face she suddenly noticed unprompted. He didn’t seem intimidated, and in fact kept looking at her with the same big curious eyes that he always did.

“Linhardt, I assure you, I have not at any point nor will I ever allow the gossiping of anyone to bother me. If people think negatively of me it is only right of them to do so. I believe in letting my actions speak for themselves and any interpretation of my actions in which I am detailed as a villain would in fact be an accurate one. If you’d like, I can offer you a demonstration outlining just what it is that I’m capable of, and you can decide for yourself.”

“Ah, well I suppose that makes logical sense given your general disposition,” he said putting his hand to his chin. “You’re a very scary lady Helga.” She stepped back and relaxed her shoulders, letting a toothy smirk return to her face. Even despite how immaterial praise was, being called scary still brought some satisfaction. It meant she was walking her path well.

“Is that really what you waited all this time in the courtyard to tell me?”

“No.”

“Then out with it.”

“What’s it like?”

“What is what like?”

“Being one gender and then another?” he asked. She rolled her eyes and turned to walk away, this time charting a slower, more thoughtful pace to allow him to catch up easily, “Oh so you’ll answer questions asked by those who despise you, but not by those who wish to be your friend?” 

“You misunderstand my role in this world if you think I have room for friendship, let alone a need for it,” she said, as he walked beside her through the open air halls, mostly devoid of students by this point in the day. “But you have a point, I suppose I shall answer any questions you may have. What is it like being one gender and then another? Well, that assumes I have ever actually changed gender. I am still unsure whether I can say I was ever truly a boy to begin with or if I am even truly a woman now.”

“Hmm… I suppose then I might ask you: what does it feel like to be whatever it is you are?”

“It feels like pressing my testicles into my inguinal canals and tucking my penis between my legs beneath several layers of too tight underwear,” she said, without any particular malice in her voice. “It feels like getting up long before sunrise to make sure my makeup doesn’t betray any darkened stubble beneath it. It feels like rubbing my flesh with feminizing salves every night before sleep.”

“If it’s all that trouble then why do you do it?”

“Because immaterially it feels like fixing something that’s been long since out of place. Like discovering a pebble in your boot and suddenly finding you can run again. I believe all of the above to be as much of a distraction to my goals as this conversation. I wouldn’t do any of it, if I didn’t know for a fact I was incapable of running with the pebble in my boot.” She stopped and turned to face him. “Now I must wonder if you’ve ever asked yourself that same question. What does it feel like to be a man?”

“I suppose you do have me there,” Linhardt laughed, “I should have to have a long hard think about my own manhood and come back to you.”

“Now can we end this?” she said, what little good nature she had left running out. “I have a long overdue appointment.”

“Where?” Linhardt asked, looking around at where they were. “In the knight’s stables?” 

“Yes.”

* * *

Helga was disappointed in her performance. She’d killed before, and a few of those had even been after fair enough fights. She had thought it would offer an advantage when it came to the Academy, but for all her studying of tactics and of leadership none of it could compare to the true battle experience of the mercenary professor.

Dorothea was down and out, as were the entire Golden Deer House. The Blue Lions were picking them both apart, like they were nothing.

Helga locked eyes with Ferdidand, who nervously spun his training lance in his hands. The look he gave her implied he was feeling the same exact way she was. Her gaze made its way back up to Manuela whos orders to hold position in the field seemed like suicide. It was especially grievous given the way she was standing comfortably at the top of an old holdfast with more than enough magical residue left to keep her from bruising tomorrow should she be struck by a stray arrow.

“Helga, Ferdinand,” the voice of Her Highness rang out clear across the open fields. A good battle commander needed a strong voice and she was proud to hear that Edelgard’s practice was paying off. “With me to the West, we’ll try and meet them in the thicket!”

If Manuela had any objections about her personal protection leaving she kept them to herself.

It was the soundest plan. They would be effectively fighting three against five at this point and their only hope at pulling out a victory hinged on exploiting a terrain advantage. 

Their opponents reached the woods before they did. Helga rallied Ferdinand into position before the two of them, hoping to use him as a spearhead in their mock vanguard. Sensing Helga’s strategy, Edelgard singalled for them to charge the enemies’ position. If they were aggressive enough they might be able to secure a foothold in the woods allowing them to utilize the relative cover of the brush more effectively. 

The three of them ran in a triangular formation towards the heart of their opponents’ battle line. They were peppered with blunt tipped arrows shot by Ashe that all went wide. Just as they approached the treeline Helga slowed and signaled for Edelgard and herself to rotate to the left, leaving Ferdinand to take Dedue on his own.

For what it was worth she slung a spell at the large man hoping to soften him up, giving Ferdinand a fighting chance he wouldn’t have had on his own. His sacrifice however was not in vain, as the distraction allowed Edelgard and Helga to move into position amongst the thickest parts of the woods. Such that any attacker would need to face them both one at a time. She saw Ferdinand jab Dedue in the ribs only to be knocked clean on his back and wave his white handkerchief in the air.

Across to the other side of Dedue she could see the blank faced professor shouting something and making hand signals to Dimitri. Ideally those two would have been their first targets, but with their distance and now even greater numbers disadvantage they would be at the whims of whomever they decided to send to route them first.

She and Edelgard came to a slow in the thicket and turned so the large outcropping of boulders was to their back. Edelgard gave her a knowing look as she moved a sweat soaked strand of hair out of her face.

“It was always my dream to die beside you, Lady Edelgard,” she said with a grin and a deep bow. “It has been an honor,” a tasteless joke, given their history, but not one that didn’t bring a smile to the face of her Lady.

“Not until you have nothing left to give, Helga,” she chided playfully. “Not while you can do more.”

Their conversation was cut short when the two of them spotted a flash of red hair through the brambles.

It was one of the blue lion girls who had commented on her height, whom Helga now knew was named Annette. She was supposedly trained at the Royal School of Sorcery, a fact that others might have considered a distinct advantage, but as Helga saw it, it was anything but. Academy sorcerers had rules, strictures, ethics, all chains that bound them from ever achieving true power. She also doubted that the girl was willing to go as far to win as she or Edelgard would. As such it was no contest. 

The girl was tearing in the eyes from Helga’s dirty magic when Edelgard’s axe took her in the stomach and she lay on the ground defeated.

Next to find them was the archer Ashe and the now bloodied Dedue. They moved with remedial yet nonetheless functional tactics. Ashe was in the back lobbing pot shots into the bush without much success while Dedue stood sturdy to press forward into their position. 

Helga used her body to draw them deeper into the thicket while Edelgard wrapped around to get into Ashe’s range. It worked, but it left Helga helpless to do nothing but retreat beneath Dedue’s steady advance. She could hear the howl of a little boy in pain signaling that Edelgard’s axe had found its mark, but Dedue, the consummate professional, didn’t take his eyes off of Helga. Eventually one of his swings took Helga in the arm and she tripped backwards trying to avoid the follow up only to stumble and slide to the ground against the several story tall boulder. 

She wasn’t much of a match for him, even if he was already hurt. Most of her spells were bouncing clean off of him and she didn’t have much else to defend herself with. His eyes were dark and didn’t show much emotion beyond determination. For a moment she felt something of a kindred spirit in the man. As he raised his axe she noticed a small tear in his uniform just below his left pectoral.

If it hadn’t been for Ferdinand’s well placed blow earlier she might not have known just where to aim the spell to cause him to lurch backwards. As it stood, she was able to hit him in the already injured ribs and cause him to fall to his knees, long enough for Edelgard to come in from behind and finish him off.

Edelgard held out a hand to her. In another life she might not even dare to consider permitting Edelgard to trouble herself with helping the likes of Helga up, but here and now she knew all too well that she needed Edelgard to pull her out of darkness. It was a source of shame, but one that she had long since accepted.

She used the hand to climb to her feet, and Edelgard reached up to brush some dirt off of her white academy blouse. 

“That’s three opponants that I’ve eliminated, Helga. I believe it is now impossible for you to catch up,” she said with a fatigued but genuine smile. It made her feel so funny to see her Princess enjoying herself. She wished she could live in this moment. She knew Edelgard would go back behind her walls once this was over. If only there were more opportunities for them to fight together like this, alone, just the two of them. She would never act this way before anyone else, for fear it might undermine her authority. It meant the world that she trusted Helga enough to do so.

“There was never the possibility that I could best you, your Highness. My only hope is that I need not force you to carry the load all on your own,” she replied, readying a spell as the brush about them rustled. Their last two opponents would surely not go down without a fight. But she believed in her Princess. She knew that with her guidance they could topple any foe.

Dimitri sprung out of a bush with a speed that Helga didn’t think was possible. At the same time Byleth lunged out at Edelgard opposite her. They had flanked the two of them expertly, and it was all Helga could do to loose a stray bolt of dark energy which went far wide of its intended target before scraping a shallow black scar into the smooth pale face of the boulder. His lance danced back and forth in a blur before plunging deep into Helga’s sternum and knocking the wind clean out of her. She fell to the ground again, curled up in a ball sputtering and gasping for air.

“Ah, you have my apologies my Lady,” Dimitri said to her, a little sheepish, “I often don’t know my own strength.” She wanted to say something glib, but she hadn’t the air in her lungs to speak with.

He began to move on towards Edelgard, but it was already over. She was disarmed, and the new professor held a wooden training sword underneath her chin. 

“I yield,” Edelgard said with her hands in the air, resigned. Her eyes were locked on Byleth though, and in them Helga saw a mix of emotions that she didn’t have the patience or the privilege to unpack. Helga herself had tears in her eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was from the pain or from watching her Mistress fall in battle. 

The two surviving Blue Lions vacated the small clearing to skirt to an easy victory after Manuela would surely be bested by either of them acting alone. She crawled her way over to her disappointed Princess.

Helga was disappointed too. Still, the exercise was well worth it. They had gotten a lot of valuable experience. Next time would be different. And the way Dimitri handled that lance was… fascinating, it made her want to pick up the weapon next time she found herself in the training ground. She knew in her heart that she could never become a pegasus knight, but perhaps there were still other options for her.


	3. You Are A Mad Man

“Hubert.”

“Yes, my Lady.” 

“It’s dark.”

“So it is.”

“Do something about it.”

“The sun has set my Lady, there is little I can do but light more candles.” 

Hubert heard a soft noise from his Princess. Sobbing. Her wet face shimmered in the light of the candelabra he held. Her tears glowed in the dim flickering light just as her ivory hair did, a sight to which he still wasn’t accustomed and one he probably never would be.

She rolled over on her bed and the belt that once tied her robe together caught underneath her weight, causing it to part and bare her body to the open air. He averted his eyes.

“No. Look, Hubert.”

“My Lady...”

“That’s an order, Hubert.”

Her flesh was exposed before him. It was a female body covered in a methodical lattice of incisions. Scars, still red and raw, that would never truly heal. To see such a perfect form defiled like that... A woman’s body, the most sublime thing this world had to offer, desecrated...

“Look upon the image of progress.”

“I will… fetch more candles, your Highness.”

Around the corner from the Princess’ bedchamber, when he was sure he was out of earshot, he stopped and began to hyperventilate. He bit his hand as hard as he could, stifling a scream. He felt warm blood pooling around his teeth.

* * *

The two of them were sat about in Edelgard’s room with the curtains drawn. Years ago, Helga took the time to learn a few advanced white magic spells so that she could create a simulacrum of sunlight, even indoors and at night. A second sun burned against the ceiling, bathing the room in a false natural light as though it were midday in the courtyard below. 

Upon a table in the center of the room lay a combination of encrypted letters sent by both Lord Arundel and Count Bergliez, several recently completed supplyline ledgers, and the meager remnants of a once full pot of hot coffee. Dominating the center of the table was a map of Gaspard and the surrounding area. At the moment a large number of small wooden figures dotted the peaks and valleys it outlined.

In living memory, or even one long since dead, there had not been anyone who had attempted to subvert the Church’s stranglehold on Fódlan. The meager rebellion of Lord Lonato Gaspard wouldn’t succeed in the slightest, but his life and the lives of his subjects would be spent to serve as a bellwether for their future endeavors. How many forces could the Church marshal? How quickly? How would they feed their army? What kind of equipment could they muster? Just how many peasants could a single Knight slay before he was overwhelmed or became disheartened? There were too many factors to keep track of. As such, they were determined to have their experiment generate the cleanest data they could. That meant lots of planning, and lots of late nights under the false noon sun.

There were other benefits to the plan, too. That he might even bloody the noses of the Knights of Seiros was too much to hope, but, as count Bergliez had so succinctly said, any action taken to weaken the Kingdom would be beneficial to their aims in the long run. The plan really was a win for everyone involved, even Lonato himself would lose his life fighting for a just cause. 

“That we all could all be so lucky,” Helga whispered to herself sarcastically. Edelgard moved a piece back and forth across Magdred Way. To one end, then back to the other. She took out a compass and measured out a circle around one location then marked it with ink.

“What was that?” Edelgard asked, not looking up from her work as she triangulated several lines, finding the quickest way down a mossy embankment along the river.   
  


“Oh nothing, lady Edelgard. Ah- you’re missing something here, that contour line drops 20 meters. That path could never serve.”

“No, I am not missing anything. It’s merely a 2 meter drop, Helga.”

“Are you sure?” Helga asked, standing up from her seat and leaning forward over the table. It said 2 meters in clean beautiful handwriting. There it was, plain as fake day. Helga had been wrong.

“Let me see your eyes,” Edelgard said. Suddenly, Helga realized just how near their faces had become. She took Helga’s jaw in her hands and pulled her close so she could inspect. Helga limply let her do what she pleased with her body; her life belonged to Edelgard, body, mind, and spirit. “I can see right through your foundation, Helga. Those dark bags are atrocious.”

A rush of shame suddenly came over her from being called out by her Lady like this. She had been granted this life by the grace of her Princess and she wasn’t being a good steward of it.

“You’re working yourself too hard,” she continued, “It’s only the start of the year and you’re already burning the candle at both ends.” She let go of Helga’s face and she suddenly felt like her skull was made out of lead. She did her best to avoid plummeting directly into the wet ink on the map. Her long frame made it awkward, but she managed to pull herself back to her seat.

“You never used to hold me back,” Helga said quietly, not so quietly that Edelgard wouldn’t hear. She didn’t mean to sound so huffy, it probably was the lack of sleep.

“Well, since then, I now know that you have your limits,” she said, already back at charting the path upon ther map, eyes focused on the parchment. When Hegla didn’t reply she glanced up at her. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said, offering up a small loving smile, “your humanity is my favorite thing about you.” Helga could feel her face heating up, if her foundation failed to conceal her tiredness then she was sure it would fail to hide how hot her face felt being complemented by her Princess.

“You’ve really let yourself be open with me these past few years,” Helga observed, leaning back in her chair. She suddenly felt her exhaustion bubble to the surface as she did so, culminating in a long yawn that Edelgard echoed. “I appreciate being able to serve you in this way.”

“Only because you’ve done the same.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter,” Helga replied sardonically. Edelgard ignored her and just kept measuring out her lines, tongue slowly sticking further and further out of the side of her mouth as she concentrated. Helga suddenly felt bad about the way she had spoken. “My apologies, my Lady. That was not a tone befitting of my station.” She ignored the apology as well.

“Just let me finish this and… there. Now, off to bed with you. We can continue this tomorrow night.”

“Are you sure? I know I have more to give.”

“I should want to keep you for years to come if I’m able, Helga. I hope you know that. I don’t need you burning to a crisp before the month is over.”

“You look tired too,” Helga replied, getting defensive again. She did look tired, although certainly not as bad as Helga, she could still see faint purple underneath her Princess’ large perfect eyes as well.

“Well then I suppose I have no choice but to go to bed as well,” she said, and Helga knew there was no arguing with her. She picked up the letters and read them over one last time before incinerating them in her hand with dark magic while Edelgard wrapped up the map and ledgers and placed them in a peculiar lockbox given to her by her uncle. It concealed itself the moment Edelgard’s fingers left its surface. How could they ever compete with such technology?

Helga walked to the door, head full of plans and doubts both consuming each other.

“Do you need to take it with you?” Edelgard asked, breaking Helga from her reverie, voice barely above a whisper. Edelgard looked shy, small even. At the quizzical expression Helga gave her, she pointed straight up at the false sun blazing overhead. Helga sighed.

“I suppose not. I will not be far enough that the spell should end because I would be out of its range. But, I do worry about you being able to sleep with such a bright night light.”

“That assumes I can sleep at all.”

“Here,” Helga said, waving her hands about in the air, trying to devise a quick solution using what she knew of white magic. It was tricky, but in time the sunlight faded, its color cooling and swirling about the room until it eventually resembled a pale full moon. The room was bathed in a soft sweet cyan light.

“Oh,” was all her princess said, before Helga turned to walk down the dark quiet hallway. Her own bedroom was pitch black, as she much prefered.

* * *

The Stables weren’t completely empty today Helga observed. There was a stable girl doing the rounds with buckets of oats, a pair of Church Knights chatting about as they took their time saddling their mounts, and a blue haired Golden Deer that Helga believed was the adopted daughter of the Margrave of Edmond. She was towards the back of the stables where Helga was headed, petting the head of a petite golden destrier and whispering to it. She squeaked softly and curled into herself at Helga’s approach, only to relax as she passed by her towards Honest Heart’s stall.

Ordinarily, much like with entering the women’s washroom, Helga preferred to do so when she was assured she might be alone, but slowly she was allowing herself to accept that being in the stables when other women were present didn’t pose nearly as large of a threat to her wellbeing as she feared. In addition, pegasi did seem less bothered by her presence when there were other women about. She wondered if the lesson she was meant to take away from this was one of safety in numbers or one of hiding in plain sight.

Honest Heart looked up from his bucket of oats at her approach as though to acknowledge her presence before quickly sticking his face back into it. It was hung at an awkward angle for him, given his relative size to the rest of the pegasi housed amongst the stables. She took it, pulling it off the wall and holding it up so he could better access his food. She used her other hand to gently pat at his neck and run her fingers through his mane. She remembered how the Edmond girl had been whispering to her pony. She glanced over her shoulder, no one was looking at her. She felt like she ought to be self conscious, but talking to your animals was a common enough way to bond it seemed, besides she couldn’t afford to care what others thought of her.

“You like oats? Well of course you do, you’re an equine. You weren’t evolved to eat such nutrient rich food. Compared to grass and hay these must be a delicacy.”

He didn’t reply, as he remained a beast. But his eyes did flick up from the bucket to look at her for a moment before returning to his food.

“I must admit a fondness for oats as well. Cheap, efficient, filling. The perfect fuel for an army. Perhaps tomorrow I shall bring my breakfast here and we can share a meal together.” She reached into her bag, fingers passing over the curry comb to find a nice hairbrush. She ran it over his mane finding more than a few knots. It was starting to get unruly with just how long it was, she might need to consider cutting it soon, or else she could try asking Petra for advice on braiding hair. That or she could keep it at its length so long as she came here to brush it every day. If she did that their dark wavy hair could match. 

What was she thinking? This pegasus wasn’t hers. Even if she did come here every few days to pet him. She didn’t even ride him. He was the property of the Officer’s Academy and as such the way his mane would be styled wasn’t hers to decide. She didn’t own his bridle or saddle. One day some knight might come and claim him, else the Church might see fit to sell him and fill his stall with some fresh filly from one of the nearby equestrian facilities.

Even his name wasn’t something she had any power over. Honest Heart would not have even been in her top ten. It wasn’t exactly her style. In fact it was quite peculiar for a black pegasus to have a name like that. Traditionally black pegasi were named for the color of their coat, given how uncommon they could be.

One of the pegasus knights passed behind her, leading her steed out through the back entrance to the stables. She stopped and turned to look at Helga.

“Huh, you’ve taken an interest in Honest Heart have you?” she asked before looking her up and down. “I should think he’d suit your frame nicely. I’m glad, he doesn’t get enough attention.”

“Do you know why he was named that?” Helga asked, suddenly very curious since the subject had begun lingering around in her mind.

“Ah, well there’s actually a story here,” she said, gripping her lead tighter and turning to pat reassuringly at her steed’s neck before turning back to Helga. “You see, there was a minor Alliance lord who suspected his wife of infidelity, so he bought her a black colt and named it Honest Heart as a sort of slight. Personally, I can’t understand why being gifted such a beautiful pegasus could ever be a bad thing but supposedly she couldn’t stand the sight of him so she donated him to the church.”

“Was she? Cheating on him, I mean.” Helga asked. If the guilt weighed on her then that would explain her reluctance to accept the gift with the ironic name.

“Oh, no. It turned out she was loyal through and through,” the knight replied, before leading her pegasus out of the stables. “He wasn’t, though,” she added over her shoulder. Helga also heard the woman mutter the word “men” to herself before she was out of earshot.

Helga turned back to Honest Heart whose head was still deep in the bucket of oats.

“Men do seem to be the worst, huh?” she said sarcastically to Honest Heart. He didn’t reply, or even seem to acknowledge that she had spoken.

* * *

Since the mock battle Helga had been making use of the training grounds more and more. Typically it wasn’t a place frequented by scholarly mage types, but having picked up a training lance and been run through several drills by Jeritza it was quickly becoming her second favorite way to unwind after a stressful day. She never actually even considered Jeritza as an arms instructor, but she supposed that was what he was here. She had only ever thought of him as a tool by which Edelgard could bring about death, but clearly teaching combat was something for which he had considerable talent. 

She was fit, she had to be as her duties regularly required all manner of esoteric feats of strength. Even still, she was sore after just a couple of training sessions. When she was a child she had often been forced to train at arms in the palace's courtyard along with Edelgard’s siblings, the offspring of the household knights, and whatever other noble children found their way to Enbarr while their parents were about court. The moment she began to show an aptitude for magic she took it as an excuse to eschew physical training. She never cared much for getting sweaty or knocked on her back, nor did she appreciate the group showers with the rest of the boys.

Now under different circumstances she was thoroughly enjoying herself. She had a certain knack when it came to using the lance. She was good with the sword too, better even. Given her experience with daggers, she was finding it helpful to think of them as simply a dagger on the end of a long stick and an extra long dagger respectively. She would probably never come to rely on martial prowess wholly, especially given her considerable talent for dark magic. But there were all sorts of ways magic could and did prove ineffective against certain opponents.

Against pegasus knights, for one.

She imagined riding through the skies on the back of a gallant steed, leading a battalion to clash against the enemy. She imagined jousting in mid air. Her lance hitting her opponent in the center of mass, knocking her off her mount to fall kilometers to the earth below.

She imagined the same happening to her and shuddered. She had a fear of heights preventing her from realizing her dreams, that was often forgotten about amidst the failings of her gender. Sometimes she’d get vertigo when crossing the bridge to the cathedral, not that she often had reason to go there.

If she were to ever face her fears she would need to be sure she’d accounted for all the other extenuating factors. As such she had to make sure she felt confident enough with a lance beforehand to assure it wouldn’t be a distraction.

She made her way to the training ground late on a Thursday afternoon. Held up in no small part by Manuela asking her to help grade tactics quizzes and spending the entire time talking at her about her love life while Helga did all the work herself. She was pleased to see that the yard was completely empty save for Caspar who worked away at a training dummy with a blunted iron hand axe.

She had yet to run her advanced drills against an axe user, and him being from her own house meant he was far less likely to find some excuse to avoid her on account of how intimidating she could be.

“Oh. Hi Helga. I was just finishing actually,” he said when he noticed her, suddenly tensing up and shuffling about nervously, failing to meet her gaze. Helga figured that ‘less likely’ didn’t mean impossible. She knew it was a lie, and not just because he had barely broken a sweat. He had been held up in the classroom with her, being forced to finish a late assignment, and only left a mere ten minutes before her. 

“Have I done something to offend you Caspar?” she asked as she set her things down and took up an iron lance from the rack. This wasn’t an isolated incident. He had been avoiding her of late, she figured the rumours of her novelty must have reached him only to be confirmed by Linhardt. She decided that now was as good a time as any to address it. She could only stand so much intrahouse dysfunction before she felt it might reflect negatively upon Edelgard.

“Who me? No, absolutely unoffendable,” he said, voice cracking even more than normal.

“I will only tell you once that you will find it fruitless to hide anything from me,” she said, striding over to him out of the shadows cast by the setting sun. “I assure you that there is nothing that occurs in Garreg Mach, and indeed all of Fódlan, that I don’t know about.” She held up the lance she had chosen and quickly noticed that it wasn’t blunted. It had a crisp live edge that glimmered in the warm sunlight. She held it there long enough until she was certain he saw it too. “You know, I’ve been in correspondence with your father of late. You have an older brother set to inherit the Ministry of War. I wonder just how much the Empire would lose were you to die.”

“Hu- Helga, I don’t have anything against you,” he said as she loomed over him.

In response she thrust the lance straight at his chest. He managed to dash backwards and parry the tip using the axe handle. He looked like he wanted to say something, but she didn’t give him a moment of respite as she jabbed it at him over and over again. He was on the backfoot for only a few seconds before something inside of him took over, and he came at her with full force.

The sounds of his battle cries echoed throughout the yard, easily drowning out her grunts of exertion. He was an absolute whirlwind, it was all Helga could do to keep up. She had a very long reach given their severe height differential and the inherent range of the lance, but the advantage was negated by their large gap in both skill and strength. The deciding factor would be whether or not Helga could overcome the innate disadvantage that lances had against axes. 

The fight didn’t last very long, it only took two missteps before Helga was on the ground with blood running down the back of her throat. She put her hand to her nose. It was bleeding, but unbroken.

She looked to her lance which was at least two meters away, then to Caspar’s axe, pointed at her face.

“Hmm… you are very good,” she said with a toothy grin. “You may prove an asset to her Highness after all.” 

“You’re a psycho,” he replied. Helga failed to stifle a laugh, and after a moment he began to awkwardly laugh too. “You weren’t really going to kill me, right?” he asked.

“If I wanted you dead, this would not be the method I would use to go about it, no.” That didn’t seem to assuage his fears too much, but his body language didn’t look nearly as uncomfortable as it did was when he had first noticed her. Helga quietly congratulated herself for a job well done as she rose to her feet. “Now, care to join me for another sparring session?” she asked, trading out the live weapon for one with a blunted edge. He took a moment to mull it over.

“Sure, I just…” he started, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, “I don’t really understand what your whole deal is, though.”

“You don’t have to, you needn’t think of me at all if that would make things easiest for you.”

“Well, I don’t know if I could do that. You’re sort of hard to not think about for a lot of reasons.”

“Then let me just see what it is that you can do,” she said before lunging at him again.


	4. Just As Delicious As You Can Imagine

“What do you mean I can’t take a pegasus out of the stables?”

“We can’t just let any student take any mount whenever they please,” the stable mistress said in a bored monotone, “It would be a major liability to the Church should you prove an inexperienced flier and plummet to your death.” The words ‘plummet to your death’ caused Helga to shudder.

The Blue Lions were currently out on assignment, and as such Helga had thought it to be the perfect time to try and take Honest Heart out for a first ride. Fewer prying eyes to see the inevitable screaming that she was worried might undermine her intimidating persona. She had, as all noble children did, experience riding on horseback. Of course she never actually left the ground before, and the prospect terrified her more than any endeavor she had ever embarked upon, with the possible exception of her present womanhood.

At the moment she was standing right outside the entrance to the pegasus stables debating with the stable mistress as the mid morning sun warmed her back and the bottom half of the stable door stood firmly shut between them. She had been planning this moment meticulously for the past few weeks, been studying up on all the esoteric beginning flyer’s mistakes, and had even put together a proper riding outfit. The one thing she hadn’t accounted for was the possibility of bureaucratic roadblock.

“Then what do I need to do?” she asked, exasperated, not even trying to hide her displeasure at the situation.

“Either you need a writ of certification proving competence as a full pegasus knight, or you’ll need a provisional note of training from one of the instructors or senior Church Staff,” she said. The woman didn’t give any sort of pleasantry or farewell as she turned away, shouting instructions at the stable girls who scurried about underfoot.

Helga figured it would be unavoidable, she would be forced to approach Manuela about assigning her to sky watch. Then she would inevitably have to fumble about upon a pegasus for the first time in front of one of her classmates. What frustrated her just as much the embarrassment of the failure itself was embarrassment over the particularly gendered nature of the prospective failure. Surely real girls messed up flying for the first time too; but when it was her, she was certain it would be seen as proof of her inadequacy. She wondered if that was something Ladislava had felt when she took up flying in her youth, although she favored wyverns so it probably hadn’t been the same.

Not to mention the fact that Manuela was presently out for the time being, having accompanied the Blue Lions on their assignment mopping up the actually quite insightful Lonato Rebellion. She said that it was simply because she wanted to be on hand in case anyone were injured, but it was obvious to everyone that she merely liked the idea of waiting around the back lines, flirting with the auxiliary knights.

With her days away, there wasn’t any chance she’d be able to secure the necessary paperwork to fly today. Helga had spent hours psyching herself up, trying to build her courage for the occasion, ultimately culminating in her regurgitating her breakfast from all of the nerves she had been struck by. She didn’t fancy in the least bit the prospect of going through it all over again.

“Pardon me, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” came a high pitched voice from behind her. Helga turned around and came face to face with a tiny girl whose head was covered in long bright chartreuse hair that practically glowed in the sunlight. 

Helga recalled her name being Flayn, although she had her suspicions that it was an alias, and that she was the sister of Seteth, a senior Church official of extremely dubious origin himself. Helga had her theories as to what exactly the girl was, given her and Edelgard’s research onto the true nature of the Church, and none of them left her with a particularly good taste in her mouth. 

She was out of her usual frilly dress and instead wore the garb of a pegasus knight, only lacking the standard pieces of plate armor. Slung over her shoulder she held an ornate saddle that dwarfed her and looked a tad too heavy and cumbersome for her to hold comfortably. Helga fought off her instinct to help her with it. 

The last thing she wanted to do was talk to her, but she supposed a conversation was unavoidable at this point.

“And?” she asked, not willing to give the girl any more to work with than she had to.

“Well, it is simply that my brother has finally given me leave to practice my equestrianism without his supervision, although he still wishes I not do so alone. As such I presently have a provisional note of training that would serve to allow you to fly any of the pegasi in the stables. That is, provided you accompany me, of course.” She had a devilish look about her, something told Helga that Seteth wouldn’t approve of Flayn inviting her along on such an activity, or any activity for that matter. 

Helga was forced to weigh her options. On the one hand, it was either this or wait for Manuela to return, potentially putting her carefully planned nutritional schedule at risk when she’d be forced to gather her courage the same way once again, in addition to likely making a fool of herself in front of whichever Black Eagle were assigned to be her partner. That, or she could try to collect a provisional note from some other member of the staff, which would be difficult seeing as she hadn’t the least bit of interest in befriending anyone amongst the Church. Her only option would be the Crestologist who had been stopping her to chat of late.

She was quickly coming to the belief that Hanneman, much like Manuela, had some a priori interest in her that was beyond her control, albeit one that she found slightly less objectifying. She was sure he would be the type to demand some demonstration of ability before letting her fly about on her own, negating the time advantage and effectively trading one overbearing and vacuous professor for another.

On the other hand it would require spending time with Flayn, which Helga really didn’t want to do. Even beyond the fact that she was all too likely at least culpable in the continuing violent occupation of humanity, she was simply not the kind of person Helga liked to spend time with when she wasn’t ingratiating herself explicitly for Edelgard’s benefit. Not that there were too many Helga wished to spend time with other than Edelgard herself.

Flayn waved her hand in front of Helga’s eyes, looking up at her with bemused concern.

On top of that there was the confounding factor that Flayn certainly had an ulterior motive. She appeared to simply be what it was she looked like, an intensely sheltered young girl, but there was always the possibility that it was a ruse, that she feigned ignorance and actually had some level of agency operating on behalf of her brother and their coterie of Church elites. Ultimately it wouldn’t matter whether she was guilty or innocent of intent, she would be dealt with the same as the rest of the Church. Still it was possible there were more benign reasons she might be interested in Helga, her novelty being one. Especially given Flayn’s sheltered outlook on the world, she’d surely be curious about her had she caught wind of the rumors.

Faced with the binary decision, Helga erred on the side of instant gratification.

“Sure, I will accompany you, for the time being,” she said, gaze gradually focusing on the girl before her.

“Oh wonderful!” she said clapping her hands together, disquiet from Helga’s apparent break from reality all but vanished and replaced with a childlike exuberance.

Helga let her lead the way. She continued to struggle with her saddle as she opened the stable door. Helga continued to abstain from offering assistance of any kind. She fished around in her pockets to produce a piece of paper which she showed the stable mistress who was just as disinterested in giving permission as she was in withholding it.

Throughout it all was what Helga hoped would be read as an awkward, if not tense, silence. The last thing she wanted was for the girl to think of Helga as friendly or open. Her ideal of being thought of as simply unapproachable was clearly off the table, as she had already been approached.

Flayn picked out an ivory filly on the cusp of adulthood while Helga retreated to the rear to pick out a suitable saddle and bridle for Honest Heart. There weren't too many that would fit his large frame and those that could weren’t in good repair or even of particularly fine make to begin with. But they should still serve, even if aesthetically they left a lot to be desired. Unlike certain equestrians in the Black Eagles she could name, it mattered not to Helga whether or not she was preserving the dignified appearance of nobility.

She returned to Honest Heart and greeted him with a friendly pat on his forehead. 

“Oh my, he is a large one!” said Flayn from her own stall not too far from Helga’s. “Though I suppose that would make sense as a choice, you’ve thought this all out very thoroughly, indeed.” 

Helga wasn’t exactly sure of what to make of that, but she didn’t feel the need to. Flayn gave her a strange look, but she just ignored it, instead slipping the bridleing over his head with no complaints. She had been worried about him balking at reins since she knew he didn’t get properly ridden too often. The saddle offered more of a challenge. Saddling a pegasus was significantly different than saddling an earthbound horse, and not merely because of the wings. There were special ways the stirrups had to be hung, in addition to straps which took Helga some time to figure out the function of. Because of this she took far longer with securing it around his barrel than she had intended.

When she finally finished she turned around to see Flayn, looking like she had been standing there waiting for some time. She did so with a patience far greater than her apparent years would suggest. Helga had to remind herself that she ought not to worry what this little girl thinks of her, but it was still frustrating to be held up by something so trivial.

They led their respective pegasi out the stable doors, and Helga became immediately queasy looking up into the big empty sky. She felt like she might become unstuck from the ground at any moment and fall straight up and into it. She swayed back and forth nauseated, only to feel a small hand grip her arm. She immediately withdrew her arm, perhaps too harshly even for her.

“My apologies,” Helga said, looking down at Flayn who did appear less offended than shocked, but still fairly offended. “I do not…  _ appreciate _ being touched, however.”

“It is I who should be sorry, Helga. That was poorly done and perhaps even impetuous of me. It was merely because I have seen you allow Edelgard to do so that I assumed it would be permissible.”

It was true, Edelgard had initiated contact with Helga while in public more frequently of late. It was something that either of them didn’t do with anyone else, and until recently had been something they both agreed was unbecoming in public. She had always worried there might be rumours about the nature of their relationship. For Edelgard’s sake, of course.

“You two sure are close,” Flayn said, the implication of the statement not lost on either of them.

“She is my sovereign, I am her humble servant,” Helga began, words memorized rote by this point, for the frequency by which she was implored upon to explain her outwardly peculiar amity with her Princess. “Since the dawn of the Empire house Vestra has served the Hresvelg line with unshakable loyalty. Regardless of recent developments tarnishing that millenia old legacy, it is still something I intend to uphold, even to my dying breath.” 

“You are loyal to Edelgard, but is it really just because of your duty? I can’t help but wonder if there’s something more there in your eyes.” It was blatantly presumptuous to say, but she seemed to know Helga wouldn’t care. She was an observant one, this Flayn. Too clever to be allowed to remain standing by Helga’s appraisal.

“Perhaps I will tell you after the ride,” Helga diverted. “For now can we just get on with this? I feel as though I’m about to fall to pieces.” It was more than she wanted to give this girl, but she truthfully did feel like she was about to implode with worry over the up and coming flight, and the words just came out of her.

Flayn mounted her pegasus and rode her for a short trot around the yard looking back expectantly at Helga while Helga fiddled with some last minute strap adjustments as an excuse to avoid climbing aboard Honest Heart. It was so funny, she had killed her first man before she had turned fifteen. Garroted him in a dark silent hallway. Felt his life drain out of him in her hands and had felt nothing. Not before, during, or after. Yet the prospect of climbing aboard a pegasus filled her with utter dread. The only other time she had felt this way was in the hospital bed confessing her secret to Edelgard. She remembered the fear that had been in her eyes then. Fear, and something else. 

Love.

Helga concentrated on that memory, of seeing her Princess’ deep compassionate love for her despite learning what she was, and used it to gather the resolve to climb upon her mount. The motion itself was easy, even if she fumbled with how far forward the stirrups were for a moment. She worried her face betrayed some of her relief as Flayn smiled over at her. Helga patted Honest Heart’s neck quietly thanking him for accepting her. They stayed grounded for the time being, riding in an easy silence around the outskirts of the monastery.

They left out the south gate, drawing a few stares from some of the guardsmen who were obviously unaccustomed to pegasus riders leaving on the ground. Steadily they made their way to a large empty field full of soft tall grass and even softer soil. The perfect place to fall.

Flayn almost immediately clicked her heels into her filly’s flank and she took off. Helga honestly didn’t think this far ahead, she never even dared to let herself dream about getting this far. She knew if she thought about it too long she might get stuck in the morass that was her own mind again, so, without a second thought, she put her own spurs into Honest Heart’s sides and he left the ground with a gallop.

The earth below her fell away and she suddenly remembered her fear of heights. She didn’t have the mental capacity to think about just how far up she was because of the quickly swelling strange feeling she felt in her tummy. It was joyus, terrifying too, but also something deeper, more profound. Something that must have been a sort of affirmation. An affirmation that the world which rejected her could be as tiny and insignificant as she wished it was. An affirmation that up here was exactly where she belonged.

She felt like she was on top of the entire world. All of her prep for the actual material aspects of flight took over causing it to come far easier to her than she had expected. It didn’t hurt that she and Honest Heart seemed to be in agreement about where they ought to go. She quickly left Flayn behind, keeping her body low and close to her steed as she guided him to swoop down into the valley below Garreg Mach.

The fear of falling forgotten, she soared over the coniferous wooded areas of the valley, without worrying about being impaled should she slip. She stood up in her stirrups and looked about, imagining just how easy it would be to appraise the state of a battle from up here. How could any battle commanders ever hope to best her should she have such a lofty view?

Flying was coming naturally to her, but as she did so she became aware of particular difficulties that she hadn’t anticipated. This high up in the atmosphere, with the wind blaring past her ears, she knew she wouldn’t be able to rely on vocal commands to guide her pegasus as easily. She worried about how she might overcome such a difficulty when it came to commanding a battalion in battle. All her perfect strategies might be lost to the wind. She’d have to look into a spell that might increase the volume of her voice.

The heights didn’t even bother her anymore. It was just the ground, the same ground that had always been there, only more distant. What was she even afraid might happen? Death? She had come to face death and walk away a dozen times, and she had never truly been afraid of it, even now.

She was a real girl, a real pegasus knight, the proof was unmistakable.

* * *

The sun was low in the sky when she finally reconnected with Flayn. They made their way back to Garreg Mach. If she was displeased about having been abandoned she didn’t show it and Helga didn’t much care. Still she was thankful to her somewhat for the opportunity, even if she didn’t intend to show it.

“You sure are loyal to Edelgard,” Flayn remarked from behind her as they restabled their borrowed pegasi. Honest Heart seemed reluctant to go back inside, but his exhaustion and satisfaction at being taken out was also apparent.

“Yes, I am,” Helga said over her shoulder with a grin as she deftly unhooked the saddle and slid it off.

“I believe you said you might tell me about where that loyalty comes from,” she said. Helga looked back over at her, expression likely unparsable. “I am sorry if I am prodding too much, it is only that I, like many, seek to one day share my life with someone special, and yours might be the most intimate relationship I have ever witnessed, even if it is platonic. I am simply curious.”

In addition to the fact she always struggled to be reticent when it came to singing the praises of her Princess, Helga was feeling far too high off of the joy of flight to deny her. 

“You are right, I would serve her Highness regardless of whether or not it was the duty of my House. She is a beacon of light guiding me. Unshakable, incorruptible. She has shown me why I am meant to live in this world,” she said, unhooking the bridle, hanging it up, and taking out her curry comb to try and remove some of the riding dust before it had a chance to settle. Flayn was standing on a stool, resting her elbows on the stable door, looking up at Helga with rapturous attention.

“This wasn’t always true,” Helga continued, “When we first met it was indeed, simply my duty, but now it is so much more. A calling, in life. You- The Church believes that we all have a role to play in the world. That we have a path laid out before us the moment we were born. That nobles are born to be nobles, etcetera. While I don’t… Well, I don’t believe this is the right way of looking at things, I must admit that it is true for me, to a certain extent.” Helga stopped making circles in Honest Heart’s fur and turned to address the girl directly. “If I might be so bold, I would say that I needed to serve Edelgard from the moment I was born.”

“Did something happen?” she asked, not mincing words. Helga sighed. She was rapidly coming down off her high but she decided this would at the very least be something she would answer. Better to state it outright than continue to allow distorted rumors to continue.

“Some time ago I attempted to take my own life,” she said casually, stroking her brush across Honest Heart’s flank, “because I was unsatisfied with the nature of the path in this world I believed I had to take. Edelgard showed me I could be more, do more. And for this gift my life is now hers,” she chuckled to herself. “I say this as though it ever truly hadn’t been.”

“Ah, is that related to your gender change?” Flayn said, bouncing up and down slightly with excitement.

And there it was. This must have been the true intention of the day all along. The peculiar look that she gave her all throughout the day as she interacted with her pegasus, made sense all of a sudden. She was likely anticipating Helga would be thrown off the moment she mounted, else had her fingers bitten off as she applied the bridle. Helga looked at all the dirt she had managed to scrape up and off of Honest Heart. She could probably do more, but she saw no reason it couldn’t wait till tomorrow.

“Please, I am truly interested in this topic. I have been doing research, did you know that there are several species of fish that change sex?” she called after her, but Helga had already left the building.


	5. Have You Tried Doing An Impression On A College Campus?

Edelgard took demure petite bites of her pasta salad. Helga found her eyes lingering on the elegant way she wielded her fork, every movement conscious. Precise and efficient, but not without aesthetic beauty. She was like a masterfully designed contraption. If there truly were superior beings in this world, she would rank chiefly amongst them. 

“Why is it that Flayn bothers you so?” she asked. Helga had been telling her the story of her first flight over lunch. The Dining Hall was full of Blue Lions drunk off of victory, so they had taken their lunch out to an empty and forgotten courtyard. It was like a makeshift picnic. Helga had even procured a blanket of sorts, an old black cloak from her days attempting to train as a dark mage, now defunct as she forged her new path towards becoming a dark flier. 

“Aside from the obvious?” Helga replied. There were certain things that they couldn’t speak of in public, but in between their solitude, the lack of hiding places, and the warding magic she always made a habit of casting whenever possible, Helga trusted her Princess’ judgement allowing for a degree of open discussion. 

“There’s clearly more to it than that. I’m curious as to how your mind justifies such an immediate forgiveness of Dorothea who fundamentally denies your personhood, but fails to allow even a moment of leeway for a girl who bears you no ill will,” she said. Helga stretched up to her full sitting height taking the time to think it over by chewing on a particularly sinewy piece of jerky. 

“While I do think it a bit early to say whether or not she bares me ill will, it would be irrelevant regardless,” she finally said. “I am a practical woman first and foremost. Simply put, Dorothea is a potential ally and Flayn is not. Beyond that, I am willing to see past her disregard of my womanhood because I don’t like correcting people. If anyone fails to see me as a woman then that is my fault for not performing womanhood properly. I think that it is more important to let one's actions speak for themselves. I extend to Flayn the same courtesy with regard to those particular transgressions, this does not mean I refrain from viewing her as an existential opponent.”

“You can’t honestly think of Flayn as a threat. We don’t even really know what she is,” Edelgard said, pointing cutely about the air with a chunk of cucumber on the end of a lithe fork.

“Perhaps not her specifically. Still, I am not a fan of loose ends. Any nonhuman entity which is complicit in the ongoing occupation of humanity should not be allowed to be rolled over into our future. As such it would be best to not get sentimental with those marked for death.”

“Helga,” Edelgard said, sitting up straight herself. She was significantly shorter than Helga, yet still dwarfed her in her own way. “Are you suggesting what I think you are? That is not the kind of ruler- no, _administrator_ that I wish to be. That precedence is…” she trailed off looking for the right words. Instead she began a new thought. “Our aim is to stop cruelty. Taking lives for the sake of a more just future is something I have long since accepted as a necessity, but this notion goes too far.”

“The dead do not feel sorrow, Edelgard,” Helga said, adopting her usual half-condescending half-reverent tone when she was called upon to explain herself. Any other Hresvelg would have any other Vestra sternly reprimanded for their insolence. “I am not driven by cruelty, not in any of my endeavors. My hope is that this distinction is obvious to you at the very least. While few would say that I am a compassionate person, I think the kindest thing to do is prevent misery and bloodshed. The dead do not raise armies, the dead do not prosthelytize, the dead do not scheme. Surely she or any number of your political opponents might never seek to raise arms against you, but we can never know this with certainty. Allow me to ensure safety, not only for you, but the new order.”

“I remain unswayed,” she said with a face that might have been carved from marble. “And it is irrelevant to discuss, as we have yet to reunify Fódlan. As it stands, you do not have my permission to kill simply for the sake of bringing about death.”

“As you wish, your Highness,” Helga said, bowing deeply. It wasn’t a proper bow as she was seated, but that was part of the joke. They went back to eating in an easy silence. There wasn’t any tension between them, they often had disagreements like this. They both knew Helga was unwaveringly loyal, and she suspected they both knew that she would go against Edelgard’s wishes when, but only when, she was certain that it would be beneficial to her.

The warm sun felt good on her face even with the heavy caked layers of foundation blocking it. Helga wondered why exactly Garreg Mach always had such good weather. Even Enbarr with its warm open concept architecture was still buffeted by the regular subtropical storm. Perhaps it really was a place blessed by the Goddess. Either way, it was nice to be out of the shadows for a while. This was something she had never been able to do before.

“It is the humanity for me, I think,” Helga said after some time. “Something about Flayn seems wrong, and it upsets me. Regardless whether she’s of the same ilk as the Immaculate One or some sort of grotesque homunculus of Rhea’s creation, it’s unsettling to me.”

* * *

They returned to the Black Eagles’ classroom and Helga left Edelgard to walk up to the front of the class. Manuela had left her a stack of papers outlining the lesson plans for the week along with a note assuring her that she was lovely and thanking her for taking on a leadership role within the class. Manuela was presently indisposed. Supposedly she had caught a cold from the mist of Magdred Way but Helga was convinced that the illness was primarily one of a broken heart. 

The topic of today’s lecture was supposed to be field medicine, particularly the identification of wild herbs within Fódlan that had curative properties. Helga gutted most of it of irrelevant details, and as such she had managed to get through the bulk of it in the morning session. Now, she had the whole afternoon to cover more important topics. Such as overland water convoys, when and where to use them, as well as what kinds of freshwater sources could be relied upon to supply an army.

She could tell that this kind of adjutant work was boring to her students, but it was like she kept repeating: “The outcome of a battle is determined long before the first blow is dealt.” These kinds of things were important, the Empire had a major deficit in well trained generals in comparison to the Kingdom and even the Alliance, and the fundamentals of tactics were far more important than being individually adept at swinging sticks around.

She flipped through some of the notes she had prepared on the subject, organizing her thoughts in her head. She glanced around the room at the assembled Black Eagles. 

“Where is Bernadetta?” she asked, noticing the girl’s absence from her usual spot in the back. It wasn’t uncommon for her to skip class, but the more Manuela had Helga taking the role of teacher the more she had been absent for lessons. She was quite certain she intimidated the girl. Even still she hadn’t been to class all week so far. Ever since the Blue Lions returned and the rumors of the “assassination plot” began spreading she hadn’t attended once.

“The last time I am hearing of her is in her room,” Petra said. Sometimes it felt like no one seemed to care about their education but Helga. Helga didn’t have a whole lot of respect for the Officer’s Academy, but even still she seemed to be the only Black Eagle beside Edelgard taking it seriously. Perhaps it was because they were the privileged few with the foreknowledge that war was indeed coming.

“Thank you, Petra. Linhardt, please come up here and talk about Crests for about ten minutes, I will be right back,” she said before gathering her things and striding down the center of the classroom to the exit. Linhardt was still groggy from napping away his lunch break, but he did perk up at the prospect of rambling about his esoteric interest to the class.

As she left the threshold of the classroom, instead of making a right towards the dormitories, she took a brief detour left towards the monastery’s second floor. She didn’t have the patience for Bernie’s games today, not when the topic of spiking drinking wells with cyanide was on the table, and she knew just where a quick checkmate sat, right next to an unopened inkwell and a lacquered wooden paper weight shaped like a salmon. 

She didn’t run into anyone on her way up the stairs or even in the administrative hallways. Seteth’s office was empty as she suspected. The door wasn’t locked or even closed as she strode her way into his room, opened a drawer in his desk, and snagged a neatly organized ring of keys. She stuck it into her pocket and walked out of the office as quickly as she walked in. It wasn’t the first time she’d borrowed his keyring, and Goddess willing, it wouldn’t be her last.

Rounding the corner back towards the stairs she nearly slammed face first into the Archbishop. Helga suppressed a shudder. There was something about her body that gave Helga the willies. It was too soft, and plush, and shapely. If she truly was the Immaculate One, then was this false human visage perhaps one that she picked out for herself? That possibility infuriated Helga for a myriad of reasons.

Rhea smiled and offered a polite apology and Helga did the same. Her smile was small and genuine, but her eyes looked right through Helga, barely even registering her presence. It was as though Helga were a large box someone was temporarily storing in the hallway that she had almost tripped over.

Helga didn’t linger on the interaction and made her way to the dormitories.

She didn’t waste any time trying to talk to Bernadetta through her door. Instead she quickly identified the correct key and slipped it into the lock. She heard a loud “eep” at the noise of the tumbler disengaging the bolt and a small scream as she smoothly opened the door and strode inside.

Bernie had been sitting cross legged on her bed, but as Helga entered she quickly scrambled into a crouching position, back pressed to the wall like a cornered animal. In her hand she held a pointy embroidery needle as though it were an estoc. Helga’s first thought was to criticize her form. Her second thought was identifying that she was dressed in a loose fitting white sleeping tunic and nothing else. Her legs below the knee were covered in a forest of thick purple hairs, as were her arms.

The room wasn’t messy, per say, but it was thoroughly lived in. Helga identified several snack stashes, piles of fiction with bookmarks throughout, and a small nest of blankets in the corner full of stuffed animals. She felt a sudden pang of guilt at invading her personal space like this. The pang disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

“You’re here to kill me!?” she shouted before Helga was able to open her mouth. “It was you who's planning to kill Rhea! It all makes sense now! Now that I know, you’re here to shut Bernie up for good. You’re the type who hates loose ends! Cold, efficient, calculating, heartless. Girls like you just do whatever you please with girls like me!” She wasn’t entirely wrong, Helga did have some part in orchestrating the false flag, but at this point it was almost entirely out of her hands. Bernie lowered her needle and her head, dejected. “Fine, I accept my end. Please just make it painless,” she finally finished.

“I’ll have you know painless isn’t exactly my specialty, but I will try my best,” Helga said, adjusting her gloves and shutting the door behind her. Bernie looked taken aback. She clearly had expected words of assuasion or consolement. As far as Helga could tell on some level she hadn’t truly believed she was here to hurt her and was merely fishing for sympathy. She would likely find none from Helga. She raised her needle again, true panic setting in on her face. “I’m kidding of course,” Helga said, holding up her hands, palms flat. “I only stopped by to admonish you for failing to attend lecture for the entire week. I’m very disappointed.”

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked, eyes falling to the floor, bowing her head in shame and slumping down against the wall trying to make her body as small as possible. “Bernie, you’re such a screw up,” she muttered to herself.

“When I came here you were concerned that I was here to kill you, yes? Well the best way to ensure this scenario does not come to pass is to prove yourself useful to her Highness, and that means _studying_.” Helga emphasized the last word by chopping her hand into her open palm. It perhaps wasn’t the kindest method to inspire her to work, but it was the one Helga believed would be most effective.

“Eep!” she eeped again, this time perhaps realizing how facetious Helga was being. 

“Come along now, I had to delay this afternoon’s lecture for the purpose of coming to fetch you, and it was one I was particularly excited about,” Helga said. Bernie looked embarrassed and seemed to concede for a moment. She stood up from the bed and padded over to the door, giving a wide berth to Helga and at no point turning her back on her, reaching out to the door handle before stopping. It wasn’t just her state of undress that kept her, Helga could tell immediately.

“Professor- I mean… Marquise- I mean... Helga,” she said getting more and more flustered with each word. Helga just gave her a blank stare and a grimace, more surprised that she didn’t call her by her birth name during the slip than anything. Still, _professor?_ What a laughable thought. “I um… I really can’t go to class today.” She said after a moment. Helga let out a long sigh.

“If it really is that much trouble I have no choice but to come here after class and personally tutor you in the subject,” Helga said, moving to the door. Bernie looked confused, like she had several excuses lined up and ready to give and was surprised she wasn’t being called upon to produce them. She shook out her head and her eyes went wide.

“O- Oh. You really don’t need to do that,” she sputtered, giving a small nervous smile and bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. She tried to back away towards the corner of her room the blanket nest was in, swinging her arms back and forth.

“It’s no bother to me, it should be productive for the both of us. Do you enjoy coffee?”

“No, I mean you really don’t have to. Please um... don’t!” Her voice trailed off growing higher in pitch until the last word was a nearly inaudible squeak.

“Bernadetta, I am sure enrolling in the Academy was not your wish. We unfortunately can not always get what we wish. We do what we must to survive and to make life tolerable. If staying inside your room all day will make life tolerable for you I shall permit it, but under no circumstances will I allow you to weaken the future of the Empire,” she said, matter of factly. Bernie just closed her eyes and shook her head. Helga’s mind raced with different oratory options. Persuasion was not even close to her strong suit, but she realized by now that strong arming the girl was most certainly not going to get her anywhere. “There have been great generals that have lead armies from the safety of the back lines,” she tried. 

Bernadetta didn’t seem swayed. Helga sighed, she could see there was no other path towards a favorable outcome. Baring herself like this was just another tool she had, her body was just a body, her scars were just scars. Bernie flinched and proceeded to cower as Helga pushed up the sleeve on her right arm.

“I know how intolerable life can be,” Helga said. She tried to give Bernie as genuine of an empathetic look as she could before quickly rolling her sleeve back down. “Please, allow me to make things easier for you.”

“Okay,” she said from behind a blanket that covered her face.

“Good.” Helga made her way to the door, certain that if she let Lindhart prattle on any longer about Crests that she might just lose even more Black Eagles than she was gaining by being here. “I will return this afternoon. If you would like, I can bring you some biscotti.”

* * *

The lecture went well as did the study session with Bernadetta. She tactfully left out some of the more gruesome ways one could deny an opposing army fresh water and believed Bernie had much the better disposition for it. Helga didn’t care much for idle chatter and neither did Bernie, as such they were able to get through a lot together. She was even able to do some important reading of her own after they were done and still had a half pot of coffee left over. It was nice being able to have a quiet place where she wasn’t alone or on duty, and she wasn’t quite so sure, but it did seem like Bernie was thankful for her company on some level.

Still Bernie’s unintentional slip from earlier rattled around in her brain. If Helga was acting as an adjunct professor she certainly wasn’t getting any of the benefits of being one. Perhaps she ought to try petitioning the Church of Seiros for a salary? If not that at least the ability to assign tasks and write official notes. What’s more, she hadn’t had the chance to fly since her first time, as she still lacked the necessary paperwork.

And so by the end of the day, before she rendezvoused with Edelgard for their nightly strategy briefings, she made a point of swinging by Manuela’s room to see if she could secure the necessary paperwork to assign Petra and herself to skywatch.

Worst came to worst she could always go back to Seteth’s office and forge the document. But the risk of her forgery being discovered and bringing unwanted attention down on her head was too great when the only cost to getting the paperwork from Manuela was talking to her. She could take one for the team.

Manuela’s door was unlocked. Helga respected Manuela’s privacy by knocking but asserted herself by coming in anyway only to see her in mid conversation with Dorothea. They both abruptly stopped talking in order to look up at her, the displeasure at seeing her upon Dorothea’s face was perfectly inverted in the enthusiasm on Manuela’s. She regretted not taking the time to press her ear against the door and listen to the room for occupants, as she had been prone to doing in her youth. For all their sakes.

She took a moment to take in her surroundings. The room was just as trashy and disgusting as it had been the last time she had visited, when she had been forced to fetch Manuela for class one morning after she had failed to show up. There was a bowl of chicken noodle soup on the vanity that Helga guessed must have been brought here by Dorothea, concerned for their Professor’s health. Also on the vanity was an opened wine bottle, it looked significantly fresher than the empty ones that had always littered the floor.

“My apologies for interrupting, ladies. Manuela, I simply need your signature on a few documents,” Helga said, keeping her voice steady and professional.

“Ah, that can’t be all,” Manuela said. She sounded, not drunk exactly, but certainly on her way. “Please, come sit with us. Surely, there's so much three women of the theatre could have to talk about.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Helga said, sly grin falling into a confused grimace. Manuela looked equally confused back at her. Helga just produced the paperwork and placed it on the only free space on the vanity she could find. She looked around the desk for an inkwell and pen for some time, eventually managing to produce them both from behind a loose heap of stained hair curlers. Manuela stood up and wobbled her way over to the vanity.

“I just mean that…” Manuela trailed off picking up the paper and squinted trying to make out the words. “It’s only that I, oh, hmm...” 

“You’re going to be a pegasus knight?” Dorothea asked incredulously, having read the paper over her shoulder.

“Not exactly, but I am bonded with a pegasus at the moment,” she answered truthfully. Manuela’s eyes lit up at that.

“That’s my girl, we’ll need to go flying together some time.” One thing Manuela had going for her was her experience flying, Helga ought not to discount the potential advantages that a skilled flight instructor could offer her, even if she were Manuela.

“How is that possible?” Dorothea asked.

“I’m not sure,” Helga answered.

“You know, for two snarky bitches, you both seem to have a very banal animosity towards each other. The very least you could do is be a little more entertaining in your rivalry,” Manuela said as she put the paper down and scrawled out a few signatures. Her voice wasn’t spiteful. She took the moment in which they were both taken aback to add: “I would expect two actresses to be more bombastic in their distaste for one another.”

“You keep saying that. What do you mean I am an actress?” Helga asked when she was finally able to speak again.

“Are you not?” Manuela replied, face falling into confusion again. Helga took a second more to process until she finally understood what she was implying.

“Oh, wow. This is not a performance,” she said waving at her body. She was okay with people coming to their own conclusions about her, but this was a bridge too far. To think that she was inauthentically a woman, that she was playacting at this, was too abhorrent a thought. “I am not acting. This is who I am.” Helga seldom lost her temper and this wasn’t an exception, but even still her tone grew far sharper than she would later wish she had allowed before the two women.

“Well I suppose all acting is simply living truthfully under false circumstances,” Manuela said, putting a finger to her chin, seemingly unfazed by the displeasure in Helga’s voice. Helga scooped up the papers and tucked them under her arm, and made for the door.

“I am not living under false circumstances. I don’t know who it is that you are comparing me to in order to come to these conclusions, but I strongly urge you to stop. I am not a crossdresser of the theatre nuevo. I am not a castrato songster. I am not some catty effeminate man with a painted face. Think of me how you will, but know that I am under no circumstances these things.” Helga withdrew herself from the situation.

“Helga?” they both said in unison as she left.

**Author's Note:**

> Another year, another fandom, another multi-chapter fic about a post-suicidal trans woman.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading as well as trusting me to lead you through this esoteric premise! Feel free to let me know what you think so far!
> 
> Updates will probably be more infrequent going forward, I'm all about starting fics and never finishing them, lmao. But seriously I write for fun and sometimes I have responsibilities.


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